Bravery, Loyalty, Wit, and Cunning
by OnceUponAPotter
Summary: There once were four friends. They were the best of of friends, too. Then, Death claimed each one for it's own. There's a prophecy the year they are reborn. A darkness, a true darkness shall rise.


A/N I Own Nothing

ArchiveOfOurOwn – Once_Upon_A_Potter

 ** _?!TW: Murder, rape, self-harm, and suicide!?_**

Chapter One – The Prophecy

 ** _"A time of true darkness approaches, A dark Lady shall rise._**

 ** _The four most powerful, most famous friends will reunite,_**

 ** _Three witches, and one wizard,_**

 ** _Born of the eight most powerful witches and wizards of the war._**

 ** _Born within the same year._**

 ** _Bravery shall be born to a lion, and a snake in lion's fur,_**

 ** _Loyalty shall be born to a true lion, and a true badger,_**

 ** _Wit shall be born to a lion, and a Raven in Lion's fur,_**

 ** _Finally, Cunning shall be born to a lion, and a snake disguised as a veela._**

 ** _Victory shall be passed over to its' rightful owner…"_**

Luna Lovegood-Scammander stared off into space, not noticing her husband blinking owlishly at her in shock.

xXx

Ginevra Molly looked down at her newborn daughter, in her arms. Her two sons had gone over to their grandmother's house for the day. The month old child already had a head full of red hair, a mix between her mother's fiery red, and her paternal grandmother's more auburn red. Though only a month old, she also was showing signs of developing her father's emerald eyes. Lily Luna Potter also had the strangest birthmark on her stomach, it almost looked as if she had been bitten by something. Something huge.

Ginny looked straight into her daughters eyes,

And couldn't help but feel that maybe…

xXx

Hannah Abbott-Longbottom buckled her two and a half week old daughter into her carseat, trying not to look at the birth mark on her neck, it looked strangely like a love bite, and it WAS a birthmark. Before standing up, and readying herself for the chase that usually happened when she had to get her three-year-son out the door. It only, surprisingly, took her twenty minutes to catch him, dress him, and get both children into the car. Her daughter never once waking up, or moving. It unnerved her at times, how calm she could be, when her brother had been screaming left, right, and center, at that age. Perhaps that was just the type of person Alice Hannah Abbott-Longbottom was.

As she started the car,

She couldn't help but feel, that maybe,

Just maybe…

xXx

Hermione Granger-Weasley had gone back to work just a week after her son was born. Contrary to popular belief she was not the mother hen of the house. No. that was her husband, Ronald Weasley. He was the homemaker, only working occasionally at George's joke shop when needed, he was the one who did the cooking, the cleaning, the comforting, the healers appointments for their daughters newfound epilepsy, the one who their daughter ran to when hurt, not her. No. She, was the one that brought in the money, the one who had followed her dreams, the one who had regretted following her dreams. He told he wouldn't stop her, but had warned her, that she might regret taking such a taxing job, she had scoffed and taken the job anyway. She was the one who regretted signing a life contract for this job.

She deeply regretted becoming minister for magic.

She was never home, never had time to rest, barely had time to eat. Was always leaving at dawn, and never getting home before midnight. She shouldn't have taken this job so soon after the war ended. And now, her son was a week old. One week, that's all she got for maternity leave. Just long enough for her to notice a strange mark on her son's wrist. A birthmark that looked like some kind of slave brand. And now, she was headed back to work. She only had a moment to look into Hugo Arthur Granger-Weasley's eyes. A moment to wonder,

And feel, as if maybe,

Just maybe,

Their child had…

xXx

Gabrielle Creevey looked down at her day old daughter. She had been born with a head full of her father's curly light brown hair. And, at only a day, she already had her mother's dark blue eyes. Her 18 month old brother had their mother's blonde hair, and father's brown eyes. Gabrielle had been surprised when neither children showed any sign of veela, she had a theory that it was because their father was a muggle born. She had always thought her children would be veelas. Her children, however, despite not being veela, were beautiful. In a natural way. Picking up her newborn daughter, Savanna Gabrielle Creevey, the day old smiled at her. The young mother nearly dropped her. Babies weren't supposed to smile this early, were they? Although, her daughter did, and HAD several things newborns shouldn't. For example, Gabrielle had nearly screamed, when she first held her daughter, she had felt, more than seen it. It was a birthmark, on her collarbone, that seemed almost as if it was a scar. A word. THE word. Mudblood.

Looking into her daughters dark blue eyes.

She couldn't help but feel, that maybe…

Just maybe…

Their child had…

An old soul…

 ** _xXx TW! xXx_**

Years ago, there were four friends. They were the best of friends, until, Death claimed each one as it's own.

Bravery…

A teen, nearly twenty, had accomplished much in her life. Did that mean she was ready? No. But, she had to be brave. She _had_ to be _brave_! _She had to be brave_! Her curly red hair, a perfect combination of fiery red, and auburn, fanned out around her head as if it was a halo. The light in her eyes slowly dimming. She fought, to stay conscious, just until they found her, they could help. Her friends could help! She couldn't leave the children, the students. She had been impaled upon her father's sword, well, her own sword, ever since he passed away. It still had her father's name on the blade, though. Her eyes started slipping closed, before they snapped open again. She. Did. Not. Help. Found. A. School. Just to die!

 _She had to be Brave! For her friends, her students, her family!_

Godiva Gryffindor silently cursed Morgana Le Fay, as the light in her Emerald green eyes, finally dimmed.

Loyalty…

A man led a girl, just barely eighteen into his bedroom. He sat her roughly on the bed. Her hands tied behind her back. He secured her feet, also.

"Now, here's how this is going to go." He said, in a rough voice. "If you're to survive, you will tell me where your, and your friends' school of 'magic' is! Or else."

"Who said I have a school of magic?" the blonde snarled.

He gripped her shoulders in a painful grip. "You did, Sweetheart."

"I have never! Nor would I ever! Betray my friends in such a way!" she snapped. "By dirtying their names by saying they practice something as unbelievable as 'magic'!"

"But, do you?" He whispered.

She held her head high. "So what, if I do?" She asked.

"Sweetheart, you have the body of a goddess." He said, casually, his hands moving from her arms, to her hip. "And, you know what your kind are for, don't you, Halga. Hufflepuff?" His hands had slowly moved up her body.

"Unhand me." She said, boldly.

"Not until you tell me where your 'school' is."

"NEVE-!" She was cut off by his lips crashing into hers, his hands moving to untie her corset. She knew. She knew what he was planning. What he was going to do. She would NEVER betray her friends that way though.

Several minutes later, the man, Herpo, left the room. He'd deal with the body later, maybe have some more… fun.

Wit…

A young man, nearly seventeen, was pushed down to his knees, in the royal court. His shoulder length raven black hair was matted, his hands tied behind his back, the rope not covering the brand the kingdom had put on him. His sharp, silver eyes surveyed the crowd.

The king spoke up. "This man, Rowena Ravenclaw…" The young man bristled at that. His name wasn't _Rowena_! He stayed zoned out until… "He used magic to brutally murder an old man." The king turned to him. "Do you have any last words?"

"Several, One : My name. It's Rowen, not Rowena. Rowen. Two : The bastard had it coming, he murdered, and raped my sister."

Cunning…

A young girl, barely fifteen, leaned against the wall, before sliding down it. She was in her chambers. The children, half of them, her age or older, were all in bed, finally. Her three best friends, and partners in crime, one being her life partner, were all killed within three weeks. Each within a week of each other. Her light brown curly hair fell in her dark blue eyes. She had gone from founder and caregiver of one, ONE house, to having to care for a school full of children, that, she didn't even understand! Well, she understood them… She just couldn't! She couldn't handle it! She couldn't handle all the abuse cases. It brought back too many memories. Her parents, she was a muggle born, so her parents were afraid. Afraid. Of. her.

The girl ran her fingers over a scar on her collarbone, which she had gotten while held captive by Morgana, then moved her hand to the basilisk poison laced dagger she always had with her.

What do you do when you're afraid of something? You, either, live in fear for the rest of your life, get rid of the thing you're afraid of, by killing or other means, or… or, beat, starve, and abuse it, her, until it, she runs as far away as possible… Or, you could…

She lifted the dagger with her left hand, above her right arm. The seventh year students, and few professors could handle the school better then she could alone. The dagger wasn't even a centimeter away from her right wrist, now.

There was a panicked hiss, before. "Sssalazzzar!" came from her basilisk, Issa which stayed in her chambers with her. She plunged the dagger into her, already scarred arm. Again, and again.

…Or you could wait for it, to destroy itself.

After all, she had died along with her three friends. All she was, was an empty shell. Of herself.

Her world went dark.


End file.
